


Our Double Standards

by Mariana_Monteverde, RubyLipsStarryEyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Auror Training, Complete, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Gordon Ramsay Plunny, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28609878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariana_Monteverde/pseuds/Mariana_Monteverde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyLipsStarryEyes/pseuds/RubyLipsStarryEyes
Summary: Harry and Hermione think Draco has double standards.Maybe he does, but he’s not sorry about it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 36
Kudos: 149





	Our Double Standards

**Author's Note:**

> This little thing was inspired by a Gordan Ramsay meme on the FB Group Dramione Fanfic Recommendations 2.0!  
> And as promised, here it is!

When Draco, Hermione and Harry moved in together, it was just a matter of convenience. Or at least, that’s what they told everyone. None of them wanted to be alone and none of them truly had somewhere they could call home, not anymore. 

So, as trainees of the Auror Office, they got a house together in Muggle London, just a few meters away from the closest apparition point. The house wasn’t a manor by any stretch of the imagination, just 3 bedrooms and two bathrooms on the upper floor, and the main floor had an open concept, as Hermione had called it.

Draco had never imagined himself living with two Gryffindors. They were a menace. They walked too fast, never looking at what they were doing, and were always in a rush. 

Just as he was climbing up the stairs carrying a couple of pillows, Hermione was climbing down, evidently in a hurry. And obviously, not used to the new steps, she tripped. The only reason she didn’t tumble all the way down was that Draco caught her by the waist.

“Thank you, Malfoy.” She murmured. “You can let go of me now…”

“I don’t think so.” And with a spell, he sent the soft feather pillows to his bedroom.

“You don’t think so, Malfoy? What does that even m-” Her words were cut with a shriek as he picked her up bridal style and carried her down the stairs. Once one the landing, he put her down. 

“Just be more careful, Granger? Hermione? There’s no need for us to visit St Mungos today.” He said, putting a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

Later that day, Draco was cursing the lack of an elf to whom he could ask for tea and instead making his way to the kitchen. Harry was rushing up the stairs, carrying his broom and a strange black bag across his shoulder. And he fell, landing right on his face.

Draco laughed. “It seems all these years of ballet training didn’t help you, after all, Potter.” 

“Thanks for the help, Malfoy,” Harry groaned, getting back to his feet and checked over his Nimbus 3000 to ensure it wasn’t damaged.

“What were you expecting? For me to pick you up and carry up the stairs into that mess of quarters you call a bedroom? I still can’t believe I’m sharing a bathroom with you.” Draco said, smirking at Harry and sliding down the handrail, a perfect image of balance and grace.

“Wait? What? I thought you were keeping the solo bathroom!” Harry turned around so quickly that he almost fell on his ass.

“And force Granger to share with you? She doesn’t deserve that kind of punishment, does she?” 

***

They made it a full two weeks before the next incident engineered by their carelessness. Draco had been placed on a different shift to cover for an Auror that had been injured in a potion’s accident at home, which meant he arrived home one afternoon to find Hermione and Harry in the kitchen, wireless blaring and a fine white powder that Draco couldn’t tell was flour or confectioner’s sugar dusting every surface in the room.

“What did you do?” Draco whined, knowing full well that if it was sugar, even magic would leave a sticky residue over everything. 

“We made cookies!” Hermione positively beamed, and Draco felt his annoyance begin to melt away. 

“What kind of cookies?” Draco couldn’t see into the oven at the angle he was at, nor could he see into the bowl Harry stirred at the counter. 

“Apple, cinnamon, and oatmeal,” Harry mumbled, prodding the mixture with the spoon. “Because you can’t be normal and like chocolate chip, or sugar cookies like a normal human.” 

“Harry be nice. They smell delicious.” Hermione grabbed a plastic contraption on the counter that had begun to beep. She silenced it, and set it aside, reaching for the oven door. As she pulled it open, Draco got a whiff of the spiced apple, and his mouth watered. 

“Granger you spoil-- WAIT!” A flick of his wand pushed her back away from the oven, and he rushed forward. “Are you crazy? You could burn yourself!” He levitated the hot pan out of the oven himself, snapping the oven door shut. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, and waved the knitted square in her hand at him. “That’s what a hot pad is for, Malfoy. I’ve done it a million times.” 

Draco ignored Harry’s snickering. “You’re magic! Use it!” 

Hermione simply rolled her eyes at him again. “Can I get the milk or are you afraid I’ll get frostbite from the icebox?” Draco scowled at her, but any irritation with them was quickly lost at the first bite of delightfully warm and chewy cookie. 

***

Draco’s next day off fell three days later, and Hermione and Harry had to work. Hermione sent an owl around four, letting him know that she and Harry had caught a big case, and they didn’t know when they’d be getting off. 

By the time seven had come and gone, Draco decided to make it up to them for the cookies, and take them dinner. He packed sandwiches, some fresh fruit, scones his mother’s house elf had brought earlier, and even a tin of quality tea he kept for when teabags simply wouldn’t do. Stepping through the floo, he emerged into the empty Ministry Atrium, and strode purposefully towards the lift heading for the DMLE. 

Emerging onto Level 2, the quiet, eerie emptiness gave way to a low roar as people bustled this way and that. Despite being long after business hours, the DMLE was as busy as it was during any workday. 

He made his way back to Hermione’s desk where she had her nose buried in a file several centimetres thick. He set the basket down with a solid “thunk,” and Hermione looked around. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion, and she checked her watch. "What's this? I thought you weren’t scheduled till tomorrow?” 

“I’m not. But you need to eat, and it didn’t sound like you were getting dinner. What’d you catch that has so many departments in a tizzy?” He could count at least six, including Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Magical Transportation, Import and Export, International Confederation of Wizards, the Romanian consulate, and the DMLE itself. 

“Dragon smugglers,” Hermione said simply, digging through the basket. “Malfoy, you are an angel,” she groaned as she bit into a ham and cheese sandwich. Harry had spotted Draco at some point, and had snuck up behind him, reaching for a scone. Draco slapped his wrist sharply. 

“Ladies first. Go heat up the kettle and bring us some teacups from the break room.” Harry huffed in annoyance, but did as he was told, slipping between a man that resembled a chewed-on toothpick with a tuft of sandy hair and a woman Draco recognized from Transport with the annoying laugh. 

Hermione filled him in on the finer details between bites, but when several minutes had passed and Harry hadn’t returned, he left her at her desk and went off in search of Harry. Draco found him in the break room, swearing up a storm and fighting with a tin of burn paste. 

“What did you do, Potter?” Draco’s exasperation with the man was evident, and Harry looked up guiltily. 

“I overfilled the kettle and when it boiled it spilled over onto my hand. Can you--” 

But Draco had already taken the kettle and cups and disappeared back through the door. 

***

"We need more books..." Hermione said a couple of weeks later. They had gotten a muggle tv, and Draco was enticed by it. Potter had put some kind of cooking show on.

"More books?" Harry asked. "We don't have the space, Hermione! Please no more books!" He waved at the shelves behind him.

Draco looked around, their bookshelves were already filled to the brim. The Gryffindor man did not have many books, but between Granger and himself they had filled a wall. 

He was about to agree with Harry, they had just moved and for now, the books they had were enough, but Hermione's grin had vanished, and she nodded sadly. "Yes... you're right, Harry," she whispered.

Draco threw a pillow at Harry "You fucking donut!" And Potter could count his blessings, because he resisted the urge to throw a couple of hexes at him along with the pillows.

"What did I do this time?" The other man groaned and Draco just rolled his eyes. Imbecile. They were supposedly best friends for years, but Harry still managed to say stupid things like that and upset her.

Draco got up, and wrapped one arm around Hermione’s shoulders and placed a kiss to her temple. "He's not right, Hermione. One can never have enough books!"

"That's true... but right now we don't have the space..."

"Not even remembering we have magic... We can buy some more shelves and put them over there... and separate the sofa from the dining area..." He offered. "What do you think?"

"But if you fill them with books we won't be able to see the tv from the ta-..." Harry complained and with just a flick of his wand, Draco cast the tongue-tying spell on him.

Hermione nodded, hugging him tightly. "I love that idea... and if the shelves are wide enough we can have books from both sides! Thank you." 

“Wait….” Hermione froze, and Draco could see her eyes flying back and forth as if she were reading a book. “Both sides… That's it! Harry, we have to go! That’s how he’s doing it!” 

She ripped herself from Draco’s arms, and dragged an equally confused Harry off the sofa and through the floo. Draco blinked after them, but shook his head and took Harry’s place on the sofa, snickering when he realized that he’d never released the spell. He wondered how long it would be until Granger realized Potter couldn’t speak. 

***

Draco fell asleep there, in the sitting room, foolishly waiting for them to come back. He thought about going to the DMLE, but for all official effects he was not privy to the case, so he could not interfere. And he had Patrol in the morning, so he needed his rest. Potter and Granger, even if they were not Auror partners, they were an unstoppable duo. Nothing bad would happen to them.

He woke up late and without his usual cup of coffee. It had been a surprise the first time he woke in their new home and there was a cup of coffee under a stasis charm for him. And now he missed it. But it made him realize that they had not come home.

Making coffee made him even later, and so he went directly to Diagon Alley instead of stopping by the Ministry first, as usual. The patrol was pretty uneventful, besides a child who had got lost from their parents, but he and his partner quickly reunited the family. 

When he arrived at the DMLE, it was a little after lunchtime, he had even stopped by the Leaky and bought some Sheppard pies, knowing perfectly well that Granger and by association, Potter, would not have stopped to eat. 

But their desks were empty.

“Romero, have you seen Granger? or Potter?” He asked, knocking on the conference room door.

“Oh… you haven’t heard…” The auror said, cringing.

“I haven’t heard? Haven’t heard what?” Draco asked, and his heart beat faster and faster. This was his nightmare.

“Malfoy, before you rush to St Mungos. Th-” 

But Constable Romero didn’t even have a chance to finish the sentence before Draco was running to the lifts. The whole way was spent cursing the ministry for not having stairs and for anti apparition charms, cursing Granger and Potter for not sending him a Patronus. Why hadn’t they sent him a Patronus? No, no, Draco would not think about that, he would not think why he had not received a stupid otter or stag. No, he would not!

He rushed to St Mungos, ignoring the mediwitch trying to stop him, and reached the Auror dedicated rooms. They were both alive; lying on adjacent beds, but they were alive. “Thank you, Salazar!” He confessed, leaning his forehead against the doorframe. “You two idiots are alive.” 

He moved first to Hermione bed, kissing her forehead. “Darling, are you okay? What happened? Have the healers assessed your wounds? Pain potions, Blood Replenishing? Dreamless sleep? Can I get you something?” He asked, stroking her hair. 

“I’m okay, Draco. It was just some scratches. I wasn’t close to the blast…” She assured him. “What kind of dragon smuggler thinks it’s a good idea to have their hideout close to a muggle explosive warehouse. Dumb, so dumb…” 

“And you, Potter! WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE HER?” He yelled, turning his attention to the black-haired man, who winced, quickly raising his hands to cover his ears. “Don’t you think she suffe-” He shut himself before he could bring old sins into it. 

“Malfoy, please! My head is killing me! Don’t scream…” Harry whined.

Draco sat on the edge of Potter’s bed and Harry flinched, “What is it? I barely touched you!” 

“Maybe it’s because besides a concussion and a heavily burned arm, my leg was a mess…” Harry sighed. “So, just be careful!”

“A mess? What does that even mean?” But Draco got up and gently adjusted the covers of Potter’s bed.

“It means that Mr Harry James Potter will stay with us for at least one more day, he has several bones and muscles to regrow,” Healer Bulstrode said as she walked inside the room. “And before you ask, Malfoy, St Mungos offers all the commodities to their patients.” 

“These pillows don’t seem very comfortable,” Draco said, fingering the one that peaked out from beneath Harry’s messy curls. 

“I said commodities, not luxuries, Malfoy. This is a hospital, not a resort.” She explained, rolling her eyes. “Miss Hermione Jean Granger, here are the release forms.”

“Release forms?” Draco asked, looking at his old housemate like she had sprouted feathers and turned into an occamy. 

“Yes, Draco. Miss Granger only had a couple of scratches,” she said ignoring him and turning to Hermione. “Any soreness or dizziness you would like to report?” 

The Gryffindor woman shook her head. “No… I’m feeling perfectly fine. You healed my cheek wound so perfectly there isn’t even a scar.”

Draco looked between the other three occupants of the room. If Granger left, Potter would stay alone and that could not be… it’s not like Potter could fend for himself. He would be too polite to ask for a cup of tea in the middle of the night or for an extra blanket. “Millice-”

“I think you mean healer Bulstrode,” she corrected with a smirk.

“Healer Bulstrode, I think it would be more cautious if Granger stayed the night as well. She might have a concussion, and I’d like to have a few hours of sleep instead of worrying if she’s still breathing or if she had a brain bleed or something. So maybe she can stay the night?” He looked into Millicent’s eyes, silently pleading. He would not beg, but he was not above owing her a favour. 

Millicent just looked into Draco’s eyes for what felt like several minutes. He was ready to put his Occlumency walls up, but Millicent wasn’t attempting Legilimency. 

“Very well, Draco. Enjoy the armchair. If you think the pillows are bad, those chairs are a nightmare. Sleep tight!” After placing some more potion vials on Harry's bedside table, she left the room with a smirk firmly in place.

Hermione looked annoyed. “Why can’t _I_ go home?” 

“Because I will never forgive myself if something happens to you because you rushed out of here without proper observation,” Draco insisted stubbornly, sitting in the armchair between them and crossing his arms with an air of finality. 

“I don’t care if you both stay just be quiet,” Harry moaned from his bed, and Hermione sat back against her pillows and sighed. When he was certain she wasn’t going to try to make a run for it, Draco settled back. It was going to be a long evening, and an even longer night. 

By the fourth time he’d shuffled and sighed in irritation, Hermione sat up, and glared at him. “Come here.” 

“I’m fine here,” Draco snapped, but Hermione glared at him until he caved, standing and drawing closer to her bed. She peeled the covers back, and patted the bed next to her. Draco rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Get into my bed, or I’m going home without you,” she threatened, and he narrowed his eyes. She didn’t look as if she was bluffing, so he climbed into the bed, settling in beside her. “There. Was that so hard?” 

“It’s weird,” he complained, but she lay her bushy head on his shoulder, and any objections he had were silenced. Her hair didn’t smell like it’s usual lavender, but she still smelled like Hermione, and it was enough to let him drift off to sleep. 

***

They were awakened the next morning by Millicent pulling the curtains open, and Harry hissing at the bright light. “Owww,” he moaned, and Millicent clicked her tongue impatiently. 

“The concussion is gone, I already checked. Also, the burns have healed nicely, and the fracture of your tibia will only need one more dose of skele-gro. Once you’ve taken that, you’re free to go, Mister Potter. I suggest taking those two with you, before I toss the rather unimpressive, petulant little dragon out on his arse.” 

Draco scowled at Millicent, who just smiled back, and Hermione giggled. 

“Petulant is a great word for you,” she said between laughs, and Draco huffed. 

“Potter, get on with it so we can all go,” he ordered, earning himself a scowl from Harry. 

“Why don’t you--” 

“Here,” Millicent interrupted, shoving a tumbler at him, and held a glass of what appeared to be apple juice at the ready. “Swallow it in one go, and wash it down with this.” Harry did as he was told, gagging on the skele-gro and taking the juice gratefully. 

“Ugh. That never gets better. Can I go now?” Harry handed Millicent the empty glass back, and she passed him a stack of paperwork. 

“Sign on page 3, 4, 7, and 12, and then yes. Please go.” She waited while Harry scribbled a signature on the indicated lines, and shoo’ed them out of the room. 

“I like her,” Hermione grinned, and Draco scowled while Harry looked downright exasperated. 

“Come on, we’re taking you both home and you’re going to bed,” Draco told them firmly, and promptly apparated them to the entryway of the house. “Go on, Granger. Bed.” He jerked his chin towards the stairs, and she rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. Once he could hear her walking across the landing, he scooped Harry off his feet, and started up the stairs. 

“Malfoy put me down! I am perfectly capable of walking up the stairs--”

“I’m not going to allow you to trip and fall down the bloody stairs while you’re already injured,” Draco snapped. “Deal with it, and remember this next time you decide to be all brave and rush in without clearing the bloody room first.” 

He reached the top of the stairs, but didn’t set him down, just turned and carried him straight into Draco’s own room, where Hermione was already settling back against the mountains of pillows. Draco set Harry down gently on the bed, and pulled off his shoes for him. 

“I told you he doesn’t love me more,” Hermione snickered, and Draco looked offended as he dropped Harry’s shoes to the side. 

“EXCUSE ME,” Draco barked. “I love you both _equally,_ that’s the _point_ of this arrangement! If it _appears_ as if I favour Granger, it’s because one of you is significantly more fragile than the other!” He kicked off his own shoes and gave Harry a nudge to move towards the centre of the bed. 

“I am _not_ more fra--” Hermione started, but Draco cut her off. 

“I was talking about Potter,” he snapped, yanking the covers up over the three of them with a bit more force than necessary. 

Harry lost his grin and sputtered, “I am not fra--” 

“Yes you are, and your ego even more so. Now lay down.” Draco flicked his wand, shutting the curtains and turning out the light. “Those beds were bloody awful and I’m tired because SOMEONE didn’t come home and didn’t even send a Patronus… I’m talking to _you,_ Granger!” 

Hermione stayed quiet, and Draco reached out, draping his arm across Harry’s middle and tangled his fingers with Hermione’s. He felt them both relax as they began to fall asleep, and Draco sighed. “I love you both, you idiots.” 


End file.
